


The Dragon in the North.

by Reyning



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dragons, Giants, Kingsguard, Multiple POVS but mainly Shaena and Ned, Original Character(s), Original Noble Houses, Original Wildling clans, Political Westeros., R Plus L Equals J, Targaryen-Stark focused., Westeros to Essos to wherever!, direwolves, more tags to be added as the story progresses!, worldbuilding.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:00:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23044414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyning/pseuds/Reyning
Summary: King's Landing, 283 AC. As the Red Keep and the Targaryen World falls around her, the unmarried Shaena Targaryen tries to survive the Sack of King's Landing, along with her nephew and niece. At the end of it all, she finds herself tied to a man that betrayed her family: Eddard Stark, the man she is forced to marry if she wants to let her family live.
Relationships: Aegon VI Targaryen/Margaery Tyrell, Arianne Martell/Viserys Targaryen, Jaime Lannister/Dacey Mormont, Jon Arryn/Lysa Tully Arryn, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Ned Stark/Shaena Targaryen, Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia)/Original Male Character(s), Robert Baratheon/Cersei Lannister, Roslin Frey/Robb Stark, Sansa Stark/Original Male Character(s), Stannis Baratheon/Catelyn Tully Stark
Comments: 20
Kudos: 107





	1. Chapter 1

"Aunt Shaena... I-Im scared." She dragged her nice, Rhaenys, by the hand, as she fled as fast as her legs could take her to the Great Hall. The screams of dying men and raped women, the smell of blood, gore, shit and piss flared at her nose, sound and smell both coming troughs the windows of the cavernous Hall. She needed her father, to tell him to surrender and stop his mad plans. The sobs of her little niece and the silent cry of her nephew, who rested in the crook of her arm were enough to fill her with dread and fear as she finally neared the great oak-and-bronze doors of the throne room. She had been playing with them in the garden, trying to distract them from the hell that was about to crash down on them.

"Princess, there are men coming! Flee!" A servant girl, much behind her, shouted at her and then started to scream.

Shaena didn't respond, how could she? She barely looked away, she just kept running, not even looking as she neared the monstrous Iron Throne. The bladed throne had once scared her when she was but a child, but as an adult, she had never been afraid of it. But the sight of her father's own Kingsguard, Ser Jaime Lannister, cutting her sire's throat as he pulled him off the steps scared her. It truly did. She didn't feel any remorse for her father, or as she preferred, the monster that had taken his place since Duskendale. How her father had planned to marry her to the brother, she had not cared, for she and Rhaegar and always been the best of siblings to each other. But the way her father had treated her mother, Rhaegar and poor Elia Martell, that trough the plotting of her mother and brother had managed to marry Rhaegar had crushed any once of sympathy the once loving daughter held for her mad father. Ser Jaime noticed her, bloody sword in hand, as he looked at her both afraid and determined, even pitiful.

She stopped her tracks, hiding Rhaenys face in the skirts of her gown. She should have kept them in Maegor's Holdfast instead of taking them out of it, kept them with their mother, but now they were here, and small Rhaenys screamed as she saw the blood dripping down the stairs.

"Ser Jaime." What should she do? The man was a turncoat, and while she and Jaime had always been dear friends, he had slain her father and his own was sacking the city. Her chances of salvation were very low. "I ask that you take us three to Maegor's Holdfast." Her voice was but a weak call, drowned in the fear she felt for her family.

"Pr-Princess. I-I..." Jaime stuttered as he had no words. King Aerys had to go and he would never repent for killing him. But being caught by not one, but three Targaryens during the act had broken whatever toughs he had.

"Enough of wasting time, Ser Jaime. There are men coming!" Shaena spoke in the strongest voice she could muster, hoping that the Knight would obey one last order and not kill them, as his father had probably told him.

"O-Of course, my princess. We should go to Maegor's Holdfast." He descended from the steps, weary but determined. He would not let them die, them who were innocent.

"Rhaenys dear, go to Ser Jaime." She told her small niece, who wept into her skirts and shook her head, "Rhaenys, you have to go, little dragon. Otherwise, we won't be fast enough to go get your Balerion, alright?" She tried to convince her niece, who looked up at her with tear-filled amethyst's. Her brown hair was just by her shoulders, the one strand of silver falling just in front of her right ear. She tucked the strand behind it, kneeling carefully with Aegon in her arms. "You see, you can imagine Ser Jaime is a big, tall dragon, ready to carry you to see your mommy and Balerion, Rhaenys."

The thought seemed to amuse her crying niece, who looked at her with glassy eyes until she finally wrinkled her nose and spoke sweetly.

"Ser Jaime is a lion, not a dragon. You can't ride lions, auntie." Rhaenys said with true innocence, the one of a child who was being amused and was ignorant of the true reality of the world around her, the reality that just around them, King's Landing was dying, and if they didn't move, they would soon die with it. Thankfully, an armoured hand soon wrapped it's hand around Rhaenys and pulled her up, placing her on his shoulders. Ser Jaime looked awkward, with a child grabbing tightly onto his lion adorned helmet. He soon rushed forward, her following him closely. She could see that men were hacking away at the gates of the Red Keep and that soon, they would manage to enter. She saw many men preparing to defend the gate, some gold-cloaks who had retreated from the city, some knights who were shouting orders. She recognised two knights, one wore arms emblazoned with a silver flair on black and red and the other had two coal-coloured war-hammers on white crossing a field of blue. Ser Jaremy Rykker and Ser Alliser Thorne, amongst a few others.

"Men, retreat to Maegor's Holdfast! We shall protect the royal family there!" Jaime called out to the band of men preparing to hold the gate. The few Gold-Cloaks and Knights paled in comparison to the Targaryen Household guard, armed and trained in the fashion of Old Valyrian armies at a whim of the Mad King he had just slain. With black-steel plate, armed with the Targaryen banner in the breastplate and with a helmet shaped in the head of a dragon, the men held a rectangular, semi-cylindrical shield made of Ironwood painted in black and red, along with varied weapons of the finest steel. Some also had bows and some had javelins. Ser Alliser ordered the men move to him, knowing that as a Kingsguard, he was the high commander of whatever Targaryen forces there was left in the city.

"Where is his Grace, Ser Jaime?" With this Jaime was trapped. All these men would turn on him if he told them he just stabbed the King in the back.

"The King is dead, killed by traitor assassins. Long live the King Aegon the sixth." Shaena moved forward, decided to save Jaime. He was the one protecting them and he seemed to still be on their side. In truth, she did not blame him for what he did to her father. She just hoped he had gotten Rossart, the crazy pyromancer.

The men all looked puzzled, but soon the Guard's leader, Ser Regen Celtigar stepped forward and shouted: "Long live the King!". Soon, others followed his cry, and the men came to form and protect around Shaena and Aegon, while Rhaenys looked on, mystified from Jaime's shoulders.

Their advance was fast as they ran through the long corridors to Maegor's Holdfast and soon they came arrived at the drawbridge, However, Jaime ordered the men stop and the soldiers started mumbling a quickly formed a shield wall, Shaena and the crying Aegon stood behind them, ignorant to the scene until poor Rhaenys screamed in absolute horror.

The sharp, feverish, scream of utter horror shook even Jaime as the Mountain and Amory Lorch, both men of his father, walked out of Maegor's Holdfast dragging behind them the battered, raped, the defiled body of Elia Martell. A man quickly took the screaming child from his shoulders and brought her to her aunt, some of the Targaryen Guard locking shields in front of the last dragons in King's Landing.

Amory Lorch was walking beside The Mountain, who was silently dragging along the corpse of the Martell princess, his piggy smile wide as he licked the blood staining his cheek. It fell quickly when the voice of Jaime rang with authority across the bridge.

"Hold." Was all he said, and quickly both men stopped. Clegane, hidden under his great helmet, conveyed no emotion, while Lorch, to the pleasure of knights, gold-cloaks and guards looked horrified, showing absolute fear. He quickly spoke in a high-pitched voice, like a pig squealing in an amicable tone.

"Ser Jaime." Lorch greeted the son of Tywin Lannister as friendly as possible, obviously afraid. "Should you not be guarding the King?"

"I am guarding the King." Was all Jaime responded as he raised his bloody, gilded sword at the two men on the other side of the moat, "And you are standing in the way of my King's safety...Drop your weapons and leave. If I have to cross this bridge with you in war, I shall slay both of you." Jaime took a step forward, a man of eighteen braver than old Lorch. Alliser, Jaremy moved after him and Lorch quickly moved between Gregor and the Royalists, intent on stopping the fight. He was pissing himself at the thought of having to report to Tywin Lannister he had fought his son, but he knew that if they fought, he probably wouldn't leave the place with his head set on his shoulders.

The embarrassing noise that escaped Lorch's throat as he saw the knights walk forward. Lord almost pissed himself, imagining what his liege lord would do if he lifted his steel againt's his favourite son. He gasped, trying to defuse the situation, but Clegane dropped the Princesses leg, who collapsed in the floor with a loud thud. His blood was up from all the fighting before, as they marched up the hill, broke the defenders of the outer walls of the keep and then slew guards in Maegor's Holdfast. To him, it wasn't the son of his master he saw, just a dumb fool with a white cloak and golden armour, followed by more fools.

The Mountain that rides let out a roar that shook the foundations of King's Landing itself, as he raised his sword and charged forward, passing Amory who tried to stop him but was just bowled back by the huge beast of a man.

* * *

"Seven Hells!" Was the only thing Jaime Lannister said before he ducked under the swing of Clegane's blade and moved behind the mountain, slashing at the knees of the Mountain. Rykker and Thorne stayed back, with most of the men. With the Mountain in the bridge, there was barely space for any movement. Clegane turned, roaring in muffled anger, and he started to swipe his sword in long swathes, forcing Jaime to step back at each swing. The Mountain was very fast for his size and any swing from the man would probably kill him, even with all the armour on, the thought rushed through, Jaime finally swung his sword, trying to break the Mountain's momentum.

Gregor moved his oaken shield on the way, prepared to block whatever blow this puny man would swing at him. However, Lannister was a tricky cunt. He suddenly twisted his sword to the side, making the gilded blade twist into the small space between the mail of his arm and his huge, steel gauntlet. The sword hit the steel but pierced in, stabbing into his arm and wrist. Gregor roared in pain, as he felt the steel cut through his flesh. He jerked his other arm, trying to smack the Lion before he could bring down his hand. He pushed Lannister away when his shield found the man's breastplate, screaming in the pain he felt.

Jaime pushed his sword and twisted, even as he felt his breath escape him as the Mountain smashed and smashed his shield on him, repeating the movement while he screamed in pain. _Good,_ he thought. He acted fast and twisted his blade, knowing he wouldn't be able to resist the Mountain's assault for much longer. As his blade twisted, the Mountain screamed again as his hand fell off from his wrist, huge gushes of blood falling from his arm.

Jaremy knew that he would not have any chance, and he crossed by the Mountain as the man dropped his sword and roared in pain. Thorne and Guard who broke formation advanced behind the mountain and both started to deliver blows to the man's legs and head. _Truly, there isn't a man more terrifying than that huge beast._ Jaremy ran past them and focused on Lorch, making sure the pig-looking man didn't try anything on Ser Jaime. Lorch raised his arms in surrender, annoying Rykker, who wanted a fight of his own. Accepting the man's surrender, he turned to face the mountain, but then he heard a sword slip off its scabbard. He turned in panic, knowing not how to defend the blow he was sure was coming, but luckily, the sword connected with his just near his face, to the despair of the pig-knight. Jaremy moved forward, slashing at him. How could this cunt think he could kill him just like that. The Lannister dog worked well, even if he was smelling of piss and shit, deflecting blows but Jaremy could see he was tiring and soon, he parried his sword away and with a quick jerk of his hand, grabbed the man's head and pushed it and him into the spikes below. _Good riddance, fucker._

Jaime, in the meanwhile, was on the floor, giving his last players, thinking of Cersei, the woman he loved, Tyrion, the little brother he loved as well, poor Shaena who he had turned friends with and her niece and nephew, who he would die protecting. The Mountain had shaken off Thorne and was smashing his shield into the guard, who stood bravely with shield and sword in hand. He could not break the mountain, that only using his monster-sized shield was protecting the blows coming from the man, all the while Thorne managed to hit blow for blow on his head, making his Greathelm slip off his head and fall on top of Jaime's own, that even with his own helmet, the damned, heavy thing hurt more than the foot that was holding him down.

He had been trying to hit this traitorous cunt in the head, to kill him, but the fucker was using his handless arm effectively, even as his blood poured down from his wound. He slashed and stabbed, being blocked just until finally, Baelon, as he knew the guard fighting with him and Ser Jaime was called, almost cut trough Clegane's head, his sword scraping through the side of his face. That gave Alliser enough time to stab his sword into his shoulder. _Die, fucker, die!_ The man groaned in pain, but that didn't stop him as he flailed his arms around and suddenly dropped his shield, punching him in the face. Alliser felt like he was dying from a single punch, he could feel the blood in his mouth. Even as the mountain was forced on his knees, he managed to grab his throat... And the last thing Alliser Thorne saw before the Mountain that rides snapped his neck, was Jaime Lannister stabbing the fucker in the eye.

"Die, you fucking beast!" He screamed as he was finally freed to attack Clegane and it worked. His sword pierced through his eye and the man gurgled and finally, fell silent on top of him, almost smashing him to death as well. Rykker and the guard moved Clegane's corpse off him, throwing him down to the moat. Rykker helped him get up, sighing as the sight. The Impaled body of Lorch, who was still moaning in pain, and the body of Clegane and Thorne, who were both dead.

Soon, Shaena, Aegon and Rhaenys and the sixty soldiers that they had left followed into the moat. As the steel-bars fell over the entrance of the keep within the keep, as Lannister soldiers under Roland Crakehall and Elys Westerling stood on the other side of the moat, the only sound anyone heard within Maegor's Holdfast was the screams of Princess Rhaenys and the cries of Princess Aegon.

* * *

The first chapter! I tried to get once into this story on the Fanfic website, and now im going to try to reconstruct it from here. I hope you all enjoy! Give me suggestions, they will be very welcome!


	2. The Sack of Kingslanding - Part 2.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bried description of the battle of the Trident, and the aftermath of the sack of the city viewed by the Northmen. Also, Ned and Shaena meet for the first time :) Also, apologies, the Quanrantine and work and honestly a shit ton of moving and personal stuff made me not return to Archive of our own to post, but here I am, in all my meek glory.

The aura in the pavillion was tense, despite the relief. They had fought, they had suffered, they had won. Forty-thousand loyalists had marched against them, had charged, and in a brave attack, tried to break their hold of the Trident. The battle had been tough, bloody, worse than any of the others he had experienced. Ned and his northerners had been in charge of the right flank of the army, while Robert and Hoster Tully, had held the centre, the Valemen the left flank. When the trumpets of the royal army blasted, and a thousand destriers with lanced banners flew with the wind, splashing through the river in a charge of fury and madness. 

Rhaegar Targaryen, despite his rushed decision in crossing the river, was no fool. His right flank was perfectly composed to oppose the Valemen and their heavy cavalry - Ten thousand Dornishmen, light infantry, and many, many spearmen bearing pike-spears and round shields, marching slowly in perfect union, a phalanx of Dornish, his second-in-command, Willam Dustin had mentioned. They followed their leaders, hundreds of brightly arrayed Dornish knights and lords, led at the front by a man in gleaming white armour - Lewyn Martell of the Kingsguard.

In the centre, and where most soldiers of the Royal army were, a thousand red and black Targaryen banners flew, along with the banners of Crownlanders and Reachmen - screaming ferocious war cries as they rushed Robert’s well-defended centre, manned by his own Stormlords and Tully’s Riverlords. The banner of the crown prince was present, and so had been Ser Barristan Selmy, one of the greatest knights in the Seven Kingdoms.

Facing his own shield-wall, however, was the smallest contingent. Ned’s own men numbered around twelve-thousand, stout men from Houses Umber, Bolton, Dustin, Locke, Flint, Mormont, Manderly, Hornwood, Karstark, Houses Flint of the Finger and of Widow’s Watch, and many more minor house. Supporting his common Northmen were crannogmen of House Reed and Blackmyre, along with Clansmen under House Wull and Lord Norrey. Many other smaller houses, some without holdings, were there too, Cassels, Overtons, Poole’s and many others.

They, however, faced the royalist veterans of the rebellion, Riverlords under House Darry and Ryger, Valemen who had once served House Grafton mainly, but many others, and many hedge knights who had once been sworn to Jon Arryn. Stormlord’s bearing banners of Griffin’s Roost, and of many smaller houses. They were not many, Ned counted, perhaps just shy of eight-thousand men. But he knew, from their composed formation, these men wouldn’t go down without a fight.

They charged under the leadership of Jonothor Darry of the Kingsguard, and the battle between the Northmen and these men was brutal - When they finally clashed, the front row of his army was quickly overwhelmed, the Royalists fighting in a trance of madness that broke Lord Locke’s Vanguards - who died by having his neck bitten off by a man wearing the banner of House Mooton.

They fought on, however, and the fight quickly turned into a stalemate, until the banner of the Dragon Prince fell on the centre, and the Royalists retreated en masse. The battle had been won, but at what cost?

* * *

They were all inside Robert’s - no, King Robert’s pavilion, which had been set in place of the deceased Prince’s own. The table that had been assembled had been large enough to accomodate a dozen and a half lords, including himself, and plates of food and wine had been assembled for them. Sitting at the top of the table, Robert sat silently, cup of wine in his hand while his other hand furiously clenched and unclenched, his shoulder and torso draped only in heavy bandages and a gold and black cloak of wool. Beside him, were his three most trusted lords and advisors - the Lord of Parchments, Lord Borros Penrose stood short, with a small but already noticeable gut, however, despite his clearly aging figure, Lord Penrose had been the calmest amongst the hot tempered lords of the Stormlands, and as need found, exactly the voice Robert and the other Stormlords needed. With him, stood the Stormlands other prime lords - Lord Selwyn Tarth, the Evenstar of Evenfall Hall, who stood grim and silent beside Lord Arstan Selmy, who stood just as grim as him. Both men had reason to be so - Lord Tarth had lost a brother in the battle, and Lord Arstan had lost two cousins and had been forced to fight the Kinsman he had once looked up to.

To the right of the Stormlords, Jon Arryn and Lords Royce and Belmore were sat. He saw his foster-father held a light look to his face, clearly trying to give off the appearance of the composed lord and planning figure, but Ned had known Jon for long enough to see the pain in his eyes. Jon’s cousin and close friend, Ser Denys Arryn had died in the battle of the Bells, and many of the Vale’s young noble crop had followed him to death at the trident - their remains being gnarled corpses pierced by the long spears of the Dornish. Lord Belmore looked indifferent, and remained behind his liege lord, but Yohn Royce stood to Jon’s side and was grinning like a child, his own host having done a great deal breaking the Dornish.

Hoster Tully, and his renowned brother Ser Brynden Tully, alongsides a small band of River Lords whom the most prominent was Jason Mallister of Seagard, all looked indifferent, but Ned knew his almost to be goodfather was fuming beneath his stelly mask. He had wanted them to use their numbers to force themselves into the Crownlands after the battle of the Bells, but they had refused, knowing it could have left them to be encircled by Lord Lannister had he decided to enter the war on the side of the King, and Lord Hoster was now lord of a pillaged land that had been decimation the likes that had not been dreamed of since the Dance of Dragons.

Last but certainly not least, Ned and his bannermen and most loyal commanders sat - Greatjon Umber, who somehow looked like he was about to feast, and had not just partaken in one of the greatest butcheries of men the Seven Kingdoms had seen. Willam Dustin, who was just as bulky as Umber but looked neither grim nor content - rather, he seemed to be reminiscing. Last but not least there was Howland Reed, Lord of the Neck, who had grown to be a steadfast friend of Ned since the tourney at Harrenhal.

It was his foster father who had broken the silence first that had originated after the discussion about the lives of many captured royalist lords and knights, amongst them Ser Barristan the bold and half a dozen of Crownlander lords.

“Any reports on the remnants of the Royalist Army?” Lord Arryn looked at Robert, specifically, who had not deigned to look at him, continuing to stare at his hand, and then looked at Lord Penrose, who sighed and then replied.

“It appears they have long since passed Butterwell, our scouts report. We shan’t be able to catch them, but it appears the majority of them have dispersed in all directions. I doubt few will muster again in King’s Landing.”

Ser Brynden Tully, who had spared Ned only short looks of dislike and hatred since Ned’s refusal to marry his brother’s own bride took the opportunity to intervene, leaning onto the table.

“What of the King and the court? Have we received any missives with talks of surrender, my lords?”

“None. We’ve received no word of or from King’s Landing.” Ned responded to him, for he had been in charge of such missives - hoping with all his heart to hear any word of his sister. He had gotten nothing but his fair share of disappointments since the victory.

“We should march as soon as possible, then. If it is a siege the Mad King wants, let us give him one. The Gold Cloaks alone will not be enough to stop us.” It was Royce who spoke up, and Lord Hoster stared at Royce if he had sprouted three heads.

“A siege? My lords, a siege of the capital is impossible. We would have to force our way over the walls - the Royal Fleet has recently sailed into the Bay, and is headed to either the Driftmark or Dragonstone. The city will have a constant stream of supplies.”

“And what do you suggest we do, Lord Hoster? Allow the Mad King to sit on the throne? Allow for Ned’s sister to remain a prisoner?” It was Robert who spoke now, furious and harsh and vengeful despite his wounds. Hoster Tully, despite both age and experience on Robert, winced at Robert and sat back down.

“We need someone to race to the capitol, to see if the can catch the city unawares, my lords. That is the only way. The capture of the Red Keep and the Royal family is essential.” Jon Arryn raised his hands and swung them side to side, speaking in the fatherly, lordly way he always spoke when he knew he was right. “Ned and his northmen should do it.” Ned smiled inwardly, hope for his sister blossoming in his chest, and he saw the other men nod and agree to it.

He was going home soon, and he smiled.

* * *

"Holy shite, wha' happen' to th'city, eh? Theo Wull asked his companions in his thick accent from the Mountains, as his eyes wandered through the dead city of King's Landing as they passed the Old Gate, followed closely by the Northern host.

For a city holding half a million people, probably less than that, now, King's Landing looked like a mountain had fallen on it from the sky. The streets were filled with broken bricks, fallen houses, dead men, women and children who were being dragged outside of the city by the living, most looked full of dust, drenched in blood just as Lannister soldiers moved around the streets, guarding the city they had just sacked from any commoners with any other intentions. The screams of the populace had ceased, the massacred had stopped, but Eddard couldn't help but feel guilty when he saw how most people ran from the northerners as they entered the city.  _ They probably think we've come to help the Lannister make their lives even more miserable. _

Mark Ryswell spoke softly as he gazed the small folk with pity, his gentle voice a great contrast to the Mountain Clansman's heavy accent.

"What did they do to this poor city. I thought we came all this way down south to liberate people from the Mad King." Mark said with utter disappointment as he took a swig from his flask of water. Mark, with his gentle-heart, couldn't be happy with this kind of victory. He had slain men at the Trident and at the Stoney Sept, but he didn't understand how sacking the city that the Lannister had supposedly claim in the name of Lord Robert, as the Ravens had said, would help their cause.

"Aye, that we did, and also to get Lady Lyanna back safely, but while many din'hold any love for the Mad King, the younger Targaryens are beloved around the realm. Prince Rhaegar is dead, but princess Shaena seems to have hauled herself up in Maegor's Holdfast while Prince Viserys and the Queen Mother are in Dragonstone. Lord Tywin just reaped away most of Targaryen supporters with his massacre of the whole lot, ay'. Many will think twice if they ever dream of raisin' a knife to Baratheon." Martyn told him, his calm but steely voice holding a grim truth.

"Aye, mayhaps so, Cassel, but it doesn't make it any more right. Most of them never lifted a sickle, I bet." This time it was Willam who spoke, his booming and strong voice shutting any argument the other men have made, his gruff words escaping his mouth as he gave his moustache it's classical twirl. "Me, Im just glad this will soon be all over, ay'. I want to return to Barbrey, mounted on her stallion as I vowed." He said as he gave his red stallion a pat on the side.

"Mounte'on her stallion, ppftt. Loo'at this cunt, ye don'wan to return her stallion, ye just Mark's cousin t'ride ye like ye wer' th'stallion, Dustin, don'ye be thinkin'ye can fool me." Theo said with a grin, pointing his finger at Willam, who only answered with a snort. All of them, minus Ned, who stayed silent chuckled, even Howland laughed he who was the most silent of the group.

Ned would have to handle this situation with the Lannister. Lannister had been contempt to watch rebel and royalist kill each other and chose the perfect moment to strike and steal away proper victory from the coalition of rebels. Now, he held the city they needed for Robert to properly claim the throne, and Ned knew he would exert his demands on Robert. He hoped Jon would handle it. Plus, he didn't want to laugh at Willam. He and Willam had long made peace about his deceased brother, Brandon, laying with the Barbrey Ryswell, who then was quickly married to Willam under his father's orders. William even said he was sure Barbrey was growing a fondness for him and that he would quickly make her forget Brandon and had not minded her not being pure in the marriage bed.  _ Good, _ he thought. He wanted to avoid further trouble with the Ryswells and didn't want this sham of his House's honour to persist.

"Ned, should we warn the Westerman we march into the city?" Came the voice of Howland, silky and mysterious in his Neck accent, which Ned answered with a nod.

"Buckets, sound the horn, you dumb cunt." Willam said as he marched his horse forward, him and Mark being the two in the forward guard, while Theo, Howland and Martyn stayed by his side, hands prepared to draw their swords if the Westerman tried to draw their swords on them. This could very well be a trap, and Tywin Lannister prepared to slay both Royalist and Rebel in two strokes of his sword. Wull brought his war-horn to his lips, breathed in and then into the horn, the loud sound spreading hard and clear for the whole city to hear. The Stark army was in the city.

Northerners quickly followed them into the city, as Ned and his guard marched through the Street of Silk, famous for its brothels. He could see that many of the brothels had been raided and looted, with many of the women and surprisingly, men who had once worked on them outside in the streets, most collecting whatever they could from the ransacked buildings. He could see a girl, no older than twenty, he was sure, run crying from an alley where a group of Red-Cloaks followed soon, laughing loudly. They probably had just raped the poor girl. He looked up, at the huge ruined building that despite not having been used for half a hundred years, still overshadowed the street. The Dragon pit of King's Landing drew its shadow over the ruined city. Mayhaps if they still held their dragons, the Lannister would have never managed to do this.  _ And we would never have managed to win the war. _

They turned on the Street of the Sisters and turned under the shadow of the Sept of Baelor upon Rhaenys's hill. They were at the main square of the city, where a statue of King Jaehaerys the First stood. Over its head, a banner with the Gold Lion of House Lannister was draped upon. As they approached the Red Keep, he could see the banner of House Lannister flying above every tower, minus a drum-shaped Tower right in the middle of the Keep, where the banner of the Dragons still flew high.  _ Maegor's Holdfast. _

Many Lannister soldiers guarded the curtain walls around the Red Keep, it's gatehouse wide open for them. As he entered the courtyard, he saw many bodies of soldiers, servants, nobles, everyone that had been put on the path of the Lannister soldiers being piled into carts that were being prepared to be lead down into the city. The Keep itself smelled like a slaughterhouse, with servants scrubbing the stone floor who had turned red in some places with all the blood that had been shed.

He and his men dismounted, and he loosened the straps of Ice, as he drew the great Valyrian sword from its sheath. Behind him, his guards all drew their weapons, axe, spear, sword and mace. The tension between Stark and Lannister was clear, and he wasn't sure if Tywin Lannister had fixed his loyalties. This could very well be all an ambush. Thankfully his father had left Ice in the North when the King had tricked him south. The sword might have been lost, and hopefully, if the rumours of the Mad King having been slain by an assassin were not true, he could deliver justice and put the souls of his father and brother to rest.

They moved through the halls, weapons in hand as they watched the Westermen guarding every corner of the Keep. They passed by the throne room and were disappointed to see it empty, they just saw more men dragging soldiers and servants of the hall. They continued on and followed the path to what a Red-Cloak informed them was Maegor's Holdfast and the commanders of the Lannister forces were waiting.

A robust man wearing the blinded black and white boar of Crakehall on his breastplate was speaking with a few others, but when he noticed Ned and the others approaching, he walked to them, followed closely by his compatriots. The men offered his hand for a shake, which Ned took.

"Lord Stark." The man said with simplicity.

"Lord Crakehall." Ned said with words just as simple.

"As you can see, the city is taken and so is the Red Keep." The released Ned's hand and waved around to his men. "And we have been ordered to declare Lord Baratheon as King." The man ended.

"Good. Although, I can see that Maegor's Holdfast has not been taken." Ned asked, prying for more information and peeking at the Lannister commander. To have betrayed the confidence of a city that opened its gates to them, and even then, they did not manage to take the city fully. Crakehall sighed as he moved to slip a hand through his beard.

"Princess Shaena and Ser Jaime Lannister along with whatever is left of the Targaryen guard have taken it. They have slain each and every one of our men who tried to cross the moat." He explained, pointing to the moat. Ned's eyes widened, as he saw Lannister soldiers using ropes to pull up dying or already dead men from the moat. On a cart, he could see a man that alone occupied all of it, his bulk so great he passed the sides of the cart as his head dangled from the cart. His head twisted and it revealed itself to Ned, showing him that it was, in fact, Gregor Clegane. The Mountain of the Westerlands reputation had reached Winterfell. He was also surprised that Lannister had not turned cloak to his father, but the surprise was pleasant to him.  _ Good, a man who keeps his vows, no matter how hard it may be. _

"I see. Have they accepted parlay?" He asked again, looking over to the fortress inside the fortress. He could see many men manning it, gold-cloaks, men with Targaryen banners, a man with the arms of House Rykker of Duskendale.

"Nay. Ser Jaremy has declared that the princess will not accept parlay with..." The man stopped briefly and then coughed, "Traitors, butchers, kin-slayers, liars and whoremongers." The man paled as he paraphrased the words. Traitor was for all of them, Ned thought, the Butcher part could very well be for only the Lannister or for them all as well, the Kin-slaying was for Robert, he assumed. The Targaryens and the Baratheons were cousins, after all. The Liars was for the Lannister, he knew. No man in the rebellion had lied. The whoremongering part, to Ned's shame, he knew was for Robert. He had been fighting this war for Lyanna, and Robert had declared the same, although every time he saw Robert with a whore the words of Lyanna about the nature of men resonated in his head.

Ned and his men set up watch near the moat, taking their time to decide if approaching Maegor's Holdfast would work. Princess Shaena could very well order their deaths when they tried to cross, could trick them and kill them inside or could simply leave them outside and deny any and all parlay. Ned also noticed how many, many soldiers of the Westermen starting to leave the vicinity of Maegor's Holdfast, moving to other sections of the Red Keep, mainly the throne room. They would keep watch and keep control of who was going to be crowned of course. It seems Tywin Lannister had a plan for it all, let the northerners handle the Targaryen loyalists while he controlled the Iron Throne and who would ascend it.

Ned moved to the start of the bridge and immediately he saw the household guards of the Targaryens moved further and prepare their bows, ready to release their arrows on him. The steel-barred gate of Maegor's Holdfast was shut, making it impossible to enter the fortress without battering the steel down. Targaryen men were all over the walls, using the shape of the walls to their advantage. Despite their small numbers, the Holdfast was designed in a way it facilitated defence. The walls were tall and thick and the formidable spikes lined around the moat made it impossible to use ladders to climb it.

On top of the gatehouse, he could see the two knights from before, men whose names the men of Tywin Lannister had provided. Ser Jaremy Rykker and a man armoured in Black-Steel plate with the Targaryen sigil on his chest looked down on him, both men wore no helmet, both looking tired and bruised, with the black-plated men with a bleeding wound over his cheek.

"Ser Rykker. I have come to ask for parlay." He stood, grim-faced as he addressed the man atop the gate, who stood there even grimmer.

"Lord Stark. I believe I delivered Lord Crakehall the princess requisites for parlay. No traitors, no butchers and no liars." The man responded, with a gruff and tired voice. Ned could barely hear him over the noise of the soldiers behind him.

"I may be a traitor, Ser Jaremy, but I am no butcher and no liar. The war has been lost, King Robert of the House Baratheon marches to King's Landing. I simply wish to talk, to resolve this matter in peace." He asked, not pleading but not being too harsh on the man. He was a loyal man, clearly tired of the war and all the fighting. But the man's response annoyed Ned when he simply argued that Lord Mace Tyrell was besieging Storm's End and Dorne had more spears to save their own blood.

"Ser Rykker, both you and I know that all the people in Maegor's Holdfast have nowhere to go. Mace Tyrell didn't budge for Prince Rhaegar, he will most likely stay back now as well. And Dornish spears alone will not be enough to break us and save you." Ned could see Buckets, Martyn and Willam approaching behind him, with shield and weapon ready. They probably felt that the talks would go nowhere, and were ready to defend their liege lord if the Targaryens drew their bows.

It was not Ser Rykker that answered, but the other man. Wearing Black-Plate, a large shield in an oval shape and a large, fearful axe made of steel as dark as Ned's own Ice.  _ Valyrian steel _ , he thought as he looked upon the weapon. The man himself had dark silver-blonde hair and brown eyes, that looked like the ones many Northmen had.  _ He definitely has the blood of the first man in his veins, that one.  _ He was tall and bulky, with large arms that could perhaps rival Willam's or the Greatjon's. His voice as he spoke was rough and cold, the thick accent of the men of the Narrow sea filtering down.

"Perhaps you would have us surrender the Princess to you, Lord Stark. No doubt, deliver her to the dog of the man who killed our beloved Prince of Dragonstone so she could be whored in the streets and placed in the brothels you usurper friend likes so much, I hear. Hear me, and hear me well, Lord Stark. We will not surrender any Targaryen to you and your kin-slaying bastard of a friend. We will kill every man who sets foot on that bridge. If you try to storm us, each of my men will kill a hundred of yours. If you have the Lannister storm us, we will do worse to those liars. And if your usurper friend dares set foot here, I will disarm him and bash him to death with his own hammer. Do not dare presume we would trade our honour, our duty for our lives, Lord Stark. Every single man and woman inside these walls will die defending this place and you will have to march over our corpses if you wish to lay your hands on Princess Shaena, Princess Rhaenys and the one, true, rightful King, Aegon the sixth of his name. Now, be gone, before I order my men kill you where you stand."

The man finished with a lift of his hand, and all men on the walls quickly prepared their bows for a final order. Ned had wished to avoid a bloodbath, but it seems the Targaryen guard would never surrender peacefully. He started to turn, decided to wait for Jon and Robert before he had to storm the place, until well.

"Ser Regen, bid Lord Stark to cross." He turned and saw a figure wearing gilded, golden armour and golden hair atop his head, with a mantle of white attached to his shoulders and flowing down his back. The man looked tired and battered, with a purple bruise to his jaw, and with a dent in the shape in the shape of a foot in his breastplate, although it looked more like it had been done by a hammer. "The princess wishes to speak with him."

Ned quickly turned around, almost pushing poor Mark down. The bloodbath he wished to avoid was avoidable. He and his closest men, Mark Ryswell, Martyn Cassel, Willam Dustin, Howland Reed and Theo Wull crossed the drawbridge leading to Maegor's Holdfast, the steel bars slowly rising and descending as they made their way under the gatehouse.

They could see a few men of the guard lining up, Jaime Lannister, who looked tired and beaten waiting for them. He stopped them with his hand.

"I know you are a man of honour, Lord Stark, and without a doubt, your companions must be so as well. Still, I must ask you to leave your weapons here. They shall be given to you on your way out." The man said with a tired smile, perhaps thinking it would be needed to convince them. Ned agreed, although. The Targaryens were bruised, tired and battered, and knew that if a group of men could fight them from the inside they would break. He nodded to his men, who promptly started to deliver their weapons to the guard. A rather small man, but very muscular, came over and carefully carried Ice to a small corner where the weapons were hauled up.

"Follow me." Jaime turned, and Ned and his men quickly followed him into the Holdfast, moving up the levels. They did not go to the highest level, however, going however to the room of the Prince of Dragonstone. Jaime bid them wait and knocked on the door softly.

"Princess, Ned Stark has come." Jaime Lannister voice was hoarse, tired and full of pain. The man had probably stayed awake all night and day while being wounded.

"He may come in." Came the reply from a soft, warm voice. Ned liked the way her voice seemed like a melody, although it was hard and determined. The Kingsguard made way, gesturing him to come inside. As he stepped inside, he felt a lump form in his throat as Princess Shaena Targaryen came into his view.

The woman could not be described as anything other than a goddess. A goddess of love and beauty.

With the silver-gold hair of House Targaryen tied nicely into a braid, intricate and neatly waved in, with eyes of a purple so pale, so pale that they almost looked pink. Every feature of her face and ears had to be described as intricate and aristocratic, sharply lined but also with cuteness that young women had. His eyes drifted below her chin, finding that Princess Shaena, unlike most Targaryen princesses and most like her mother, was short, although it didn't make the woman look any less fierce, in fact, it only made her more beautiful. The tight dress, made with the richest silks that money could buy, fit rather nicely around her curves, and this woman had a lot of them. The way her firm, large, round breasts pressed against her dress, her wide hips, that probably fit a rather large bottom, although they weren't big enough that she could be considered big boned or fat. He heard Martyn whisper a "Holy fuck." with a "Ned, you have to move."

Ned quickly snapped out of his entrance, it was the first time a woman had made him feel this way, although it didn't last long. Ned had resisted not many, but a good number of women, and he wouldn't let himself be influenced by his attraction to this one. He had a duty to Robert.

Shaena Targaryen didn't stay silent for long, as she stood with her back straight, with a small little girl with eyes of amethyst and Dornish looks shying away, scared in the bed, while next to it, a small little crib held a sleeping baby.

"Lord Eddard." She called to him and by the way, her eyes moved and her body shifted, Ned had a feeling in his gut she had been deciphering a way to kill him.


End file.
